


He's Running Out Of Air

by CharlieDC



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur!Harry, Fluff and Angst, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieDC/pseuds/CharlieDC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was just… stressful. Being Arthur was stressful, being an agent was stressful, being in his fucking forties was stressful. Eggsy was not helping with this stress.</p>
<p>Harry and Eggsy work through a lover's quarrel, Merlin gets dragged into it and Roxy ends up being the one on top. <br/><i></i><br/>IMPORTANT:<br/>All links throughout the work should be opened in a separate tab, because AO3 will not do it for you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Didn't Look Me In The Eye

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for my buddy Carter! Thanks for giving me this great idea; can't wait to write it all out :)

**[Spaces - One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4e_0VvTqv0) **

Everything was just… stressful. Being Arthur was stressful, being an agent was stressful, being in his fucking forties was stressful.

Training new agents, paperwork, mission extracts and assignments, communications, paperwork, dealing with the leftovers of Valentine’s shitstorm, paperwork, keeping up with reviews for his current agents and making sure their field work is up to par and paperwork.

There was a lot of fucking paperwork.

Sometimes, when he was stressed from work and stressed from life, he would just take his tea and sit on the veranda and read the damn paper and be fucking peaceful. Sometimes he’d smoke a pipe, just to calm his nerves, if he was just completely strained.

Today was one of those days.

He came in the door, glasses skewed, hair a mess and suit jacket unbuttoned. He looked disheveled and if Eggsy said he didn’t think it was the least bit hot, he’d be very wrong and very much a liar. Not only to himself, but with anyone with eyes that can appreciate the aesthetics of Harry Hart.

He almost jumped his bones when he got through the door but, as training made him a smarter man, he realized that if he looks this unorderly, there is probably a reason.

Harry didn’t come home for two nights in a row due to late nights at the tailors. He had been working through all that damn work that was leftover from Chester’s death. There had been a lot from what Eggsy heard and, from what he understood, Harry he was a bit stressed.

Final analysis? Harry needs to blow off some steam.

He sat on the couch, magazine in hand and smile on his face. Eggsy tried to be as sweet and sultry as possible when he said, “Hello, love.”

Harry didn’t look at him. Okay. A more direct approach needs to be taken.

“Harry?” Eggsy stood up.

“I need a minute.” Harry said, walking up the stairs. Eggsy promptly followed him, taking the steps two by two because of Harry’s dire need to get away. Harry turned around in the doorway, “Alone.”

The door was in Eggsy’s confused, slightly perturbed face. He opened the door and walked through, finding Harry on the bed, head in his hands. He sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Eggsy walked over and perched himself on the end of the mattress.

“Eggsy, please, just let me have a moment to myself.” Harry sighed. He rubbed his eyes and just looked… damn tired. He needed his time to himself to just recoup from the happenings of today and yesterday and the past months.

A pipe. A pipe and a tumbler of whiskey (maybe even a full bottle) and some goddamn time alone. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed, “Eggsy, just let me be.”

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” Eggsy demanded. He wanted to help, see if he could do anything.

When Harry didn’t say anything, Eggsy reached out a hand to Harry’s shoulder to console him.

“WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!?” Harry shouted. Eggsy withdrew his arm the second Harry stood up, angry and at his breaking point, “JESUS, EGGSY, I NEED SOME GOD DAMN TIME ALONE! JUST GO!”

Eggsy looked shocked. He stood there, pale, mouth open, holding his hand that he tried to console his boyfriend with. What did he do? All he wanted to do was help. He wanted to just take his stress away and make him smile that smile he loves and…

He just wanted to help.

Eggsy stood up and everything seemed to move slow. He was pale; shocked. Harry had a moment of realizing what he did. Emotions ran across his face and he couldn’t find a way to voice his feelings. The words were caged in his throat; trying to claw their way out. It was no use.

Harry hated the look on Eggsy’s face. He’d seen that face before; at the pub when he first met Eggsy. After Kentucky, when Harry first saw him after Eggsy’s first mission. He’d seen that face when Eggsy asked about his father and what happened, but only for a moment.

He hated that face.

Harry ever so slightly reached out to him, trying to pull him back. Trying to get that damn look wiped away. Trying to fix what he just did, what he just said.

“Eggsy-”

“O-okay.” He whispered, “Yeah I’ll give you time alone.” He turned on his heel and walked out the room and down the stairs.

When Harry heard the door to the flat shut he sank down onto the bed, deflated.


	2. You Float Like A Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and drunk!Hartwin.
> 
> IMPORTANT:  
> ALL LINKS IN THE CHAPTERS SHOULD BE OPENED IN A NEW WINDOW BECAUSE AO3 WONT DO IT AUTOMATICALLY FOR YOU!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 to come soon. I just couldn't stand not updating asap! Here you goooo~~~

[ **Creep - Postmodern Jukebox ft. Karen Marie** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Ub3vliRRXI)

It had been 6 hours. Harry had only moved from the bedroom to the living room to check his phone and eat, but he could only stomach some toast and Eggsy hadn’t texted him. Thoughts ran through his head, replay after replay of what he said to the boy from the moment he walked in the door.

His wall clock read 4:32. Goddammit.

He knew that this little outburst was more than just a little outburst. It was him staying out for work later than usual. It was him being cold and collected, rather than warm and open like he used to behave. He was always warm towards Eggsy, given how dark and abusive Dean was; he decided that he had to give Eggsy a safe place to be and…

Well he’s really up shit creek isn’t he?

He’s never had a father, growing up; that being Harry’s fault. His mother clinging to whatever man she could muster up to try and replace that father figure in Eggsy’s life (resulting in the piece of scum that is Dean); Harry’s fault. Eggsy going into a deep depression and self-hatred spiel of 2 months before Harry came back from his coma after Kentucky; Harry’s fault.

It had been obvious since day one how much Eggsy admired Harry, after that bar fight. It had been very obvious how fit Eggsy was based on that first mission in the training quarters. Harry couldn’t hide the blush after seeing Eggsy soaking wet and absolutely stunning.

He could hardly hide his straining cock, let alone his blush.

Eggsy had grown attached to Harry, stuck to him like a puppy. He told Harry that he looked up to him, how much he admired him. Harry could remember it so vividly, like it just happened.

It was the day he took Eggsy into his house for the first time, when they were given 24 hours to be alone with their protege before their final mission.

Harry smiled and looked down at his fiddling thumbs when Eggsy was going on about making margaritas. He mucked up the first three, either adding too much lemon, too much salt on the rim, or just too much tequila (which, in Eggsy’s brass opinion, you can never have too much tequila). Harry decided to coach him from the dining table, a safe distance away to observe. His chair is propped up against the bar hutch so that he can see Eggsy’s work and give him constructive, margarita making criticism.

It is also important to note that after the second mix, which had a generous amount of tequila, Harry had taken it upon himself to ingest such a drink.

And he was now piss drunk.

“Y’got to put it in the Cointreau, Eggsy!” Harry bellowed, opposite the counter.

“‘Ow much is that?” Eggsy smiled at him, completely pleased with himself that he got Harry this smashed this quickly. He knew that with the right amount, he could get Harry totally sloshed. He was feeling the buzz of his own margarita concoctions, not wanting to leave Harry alone in this blissful state of drunkenness.

“One ounce, my boy.” Harry brought his drink up, as a sign to toast Eggsy, but just merely smiled, laughed, and downed the rest of his glass, “Hurry up! Glass is empty!”

“Oh no, no more for you, old man.” From the counter, he shook the contents in Harry’s debonair cocktail shaker and poured it out in his final glass for the night. “You’re pissed, mate, time to get you to bed.”

“Nah-ah! My house, my rules. Give me that last drink or else… I’ll…” Harry seemed to lose his train of thought. Eggsy sauntered over, hat and jacket lost somewhere in the feat of making the perfect cocktail (along with Harry’s glasses, suit jacket, and any sense of professionalism). His broad shoulders and toned biceps only made Harry’s thought seem farther away, never being able to be caught again.

“You’ll what, Harry?” He smiles. He fucking smiles. Harry is never one to be subject to flattery, he’s had his fair share of flirtations, fair share of one night stands, honeypot missions, and just down right persuasion under the guise of fawning. He knows how to flirt, he knows how to play the damn game; hell, he invented the damn game!

So when he blushed at Eggsy’s swayed hips and cocked smile, he blames it on the alcohol.

“You want to stick around and find out?” Harry smiled.

“Only if you share this last drink with me…” Eggsy winked, took a sip, and handed the glass to Harry, who, without breaking eye contact (fucking tease, Eggsy thinks), downed half the drink.

“Y’know…” Eggsy starts, smiling his half smile at the way Harry nods for him to go on, “I admire you a lot, Harry.” He moves closer, from the doorway of the kitchen to perch on the end of the dining table.

“It’s a bit obvious, lad.” Harry smiles at him, watches the blush deepen from Eggsy’s already flushed cheeks, tainted with the pink of alcohol. When Eggsy looks down, a bit ashamed, Harry goes on to continue his sentence, feigning it being cut off, “Not that that’s a bad thing, Eggsy.”

Eggsy looked up, cheerful.

“A mixture of admiration and pity is one of the surest recipes for affection.” Harry says. When Eggsy just looks at him confused and disgruntled, Harry concludes with, “That’s Arthur Helps; writer.”

“You say you pity me?” Eggsy draws back, just the slightest. Harry takes note of this action. The underlying statement of _you are also attracted to me_ is hidden in the back of Eggsy’s completely un-sober mind.

“I say I pity myself.”

Eggsy just stares.

“Never in my years of service at Kingsman would I have fallen so madly for a goddamn recruit,” he snuck a glance at Eggsy, “not that you’re just limited to the title of a recruit.”

“You fancy me?” He smiled as he drank some more.

“Well-” Harry slides down in his chair, “I-” He sighs, “You’d think you’d of noticed-” and he runs a hand over his face, “Well, yes, you blithering tosser.”

Eggsy beams.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to reveal any information that might make this conversation a bit more bearable?” Harry suggests.

“If ‘yer looking for some declaration of love, ‘Arry, all I can tell you is my love for ‘yer smashin’ arse.”

“Charming, Eggsy, quite becoming.”

“Thank you.”

They proceeded to spend the rest of the night making out in the dining room, the couch in the living room, halfway up the stairs, and ending it in Harry’s bedroom. Best night to date, Harry recalls.

If he could only go back to that moment now, or skip this one. If he could just have Eggsy back in his arms, telling the boy how sorry he is. Not just for snapping at him, but for being distant, for being horrible, for leaving Eggsy so alone these past months.

You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Not to say that this is a breaking point for them, that Eggsy is leaving forever. That’s far too irrational. He can fix this, Harry knows he can fix this.

He pulls out his phone and dials the number.

“Harry for fucks sake it’s four thirty 'n' tha mornin' what’s your goddamn problem!?” Merlin barks into his phone.

“Don’t be a tosser, Merlin, I know you’re still at HQ.”

“Beside the point. What the fuck do you want?”

“I need you to track Eggsy for me.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss? Do you think,” Harry can hear Merlin’s chair skating across the room, “that I’m going to take precious time,” computers being booted, “and precious information and technology,” keys clattering, “just so I can track down your lost fucking puppy?!”

The computer’s homing system has a very recognizable sound, when tracing an agent. Harry smiles to himself.

“Tell me where he is.”

“Black Prince pub in Kennington.”

“Just as I thought.”

“THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU-” Harry hangs up his phone, grabs his jacket, and heads out the door.


	3. You're So Fucking Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT:  
> ALL LINKS IN THE CHAPTERS SHOULD BE OPENED IN A NEW WINDOW BECAUSE AO3 WONT DO IT AUTOMATICALLY FOR YOU!!!

[ **Should I Stay or Should I Go - The Clash** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLQJVKP3YlM)

Eggsy downed the rest of his drink and asked for another pint. The owner had known Eggsy for a long time, so having a regular and staying after hours was normal for Eggsy. Especially lately, figuring out how to spend his time, considering Harry was…

He was being fucking Harry. No, no, no. He was being _Harry_ who had the shoes of _Arthur_ to fill.

Goddamn Chester King.

It had been really awesome at first, Eggsy thought. He’d been ecstatic and they had you-just-got-a-badass-promotion sex and everything was perfect. Things were secure and mulling over after V-Day it seemed.

It _seemed._

Eggsy only knew what Harry could tell him; what Harry would tell him. He knew only what was necessary as a Kingsman agent, but as Harry’s boyfriend, he felt he needed to know more. He teased Harry about it one night, but Harry closed that possibility of conversation before it was even a conversation.

So he backed off. Just because he didn’t know everything wasn’t the end of the world.

It was only after the first month and a half of Harry’s promotion that things started to change. It was miniscule, like the forming of a pimple or how scars heal over. You don’t really see that it’s there until it’s so disgustingly present. Things just started to fade, like saturation in the color of their lives. Ever so slightly did the colors fade out and it was black and white.

Eggsy is being over dramatic. He laughs at the metaphors he’s come up with in his head, takes a generous gulp of his mug, and continues his thought.

It’s not all black and white, to put it in simple terms. It’s more at 54%, easily climbing to the top of a real problem. If no one does anything to salvage this relationship then what the hell have they been doing for the past seven months? Eggsy likes to believe it’s been seven, ever since Margarita Night (he calls it that, but Harry just barks his laugh every time Eggsy says it); even when Harry was comatose from Kentucky.

Seven months.

Down the fucking shitter.

The question is, does Eggsy want to stop being a fucking child and talk to Harry? Does he want to stop being stubborn, call him and talk to him because he _knows_ that Harry is fucking losing it over the fact that Eggsy hasn’t talked to him after just storming out. He knows that Harry has been giving him space and letting him think it over. He knows that he needs to be the bigger person because Harry didn’t know what he was doing and this _isn’t as bad as Eggsy is making it out to be._

He’s so fucking dramatic. He smiles to himself, and checks his watch; _5:05._

“Shite…” He whispers to himself.

Eggsy hates how cold Harry has been. He hates that he hasn’t communicated to him and been open to him and just fucking _talked_ to him in these past months as Arthur. It’s all been work. Eggsy could help with all this goddamn business! He’d sign up to be his assistant if that means that he could have his Harry back. He’s down for pretty much anything right now. But, just because Harry has been distant, doesn’t mean it’s all Harry’s fault. Yeah, Eggsy has tried talking to him, but he catches him at the wrong time. It’s always the wrong time when he wants to talk.

The ridiculous thing is that Eggsy knows it, too. He knows that he’s catching Harry off guard and he’s doing it during work hours or after a ridiculously stressful day. Has Harry been so deviously distant over these past, what, four months as Arthur? No. That’s the thing; it hasn’t always been this way.

It’s only really been this bad these past months because Eggsy never paid enough attention to cease the fire; Harry didn’t either. They were both so… _childish,_ thinking they could live in this fairy tale relationship that didn’t require work or communication or any fucking thought.

The glass clinks on the table as Eggsy downed the rest of his drink, a slow burn coating his throat. He surveyed his surroundings; the first break of daylight peeking through the olive curtains. Old but cared for furniture and a gorgeous bar with all the world’s finest craft beers. The barkeep brought Eggsy a half-pint, his way of politely cutting the boy off his next round.

The door opened and closed with the ring of a bell.

"I knew you'd be here." He set the umbrella down as he sat opposite Eggsy.

"Knew you'd come find me if I di’n't get home before sunrise."

"Why didn't you?" He put his hands on the table, open and inviting, innocent, cooperative.

Apologetic.

"You know why, old man." Eggsy smiled into his glass, taking small sips; savoring the little he has.

[" _Talk to me._ "](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szp9x1ZlZn4) Harry begged. He leaned forward to catch Eggsy's eye. The look on his face was pained; pleading. It was apparent he only wanted to help.

The boy scraped his nails across the wood of the table, obviously nervous. He was so ready to resolve this and hash it out but now the moment is here... Eggsy can't talk. He always has something to say, the smart ass. Now? Cat-got-the-tongue-silence.

The barkeep left a while ago, to the back or something. The only sound is the scrape, scrape on wood and breathing. Harry swallows, hard, every few seconds, adjusts his glasses or takes a deep breath. Eggsy can’t stand this and he hates it. He needs to say _something,_ any fucking thing that could break this throat-choking silence.

“I hate this.” That’s all he can come up with, but it’s enough to get the ball rolling. “I hate how ‘yer never home an’ you’ve isolated yourself. You barely talk to me at the shop an’ hardly say a word when you come home,” Eggsy locks eyes with him, “I know this job is stressful but _Jesus Christ_ , Harry, don’t come in ‘ere an’ tell me to talk when you’ve been the one who can’t get a word out when you walk in the door. Don’t be tellin’ me to communicate when you don’t even tell me ‘ow your day’s gone. That’s bullshit.”

“An’ I know I shoulda’ been talkin’ an’ I shoulda’ brought it up earlier, it’s not _all_ ‘yer fault, love. I know I shoulda’ talked to you if I really wanted to fix this an’ work it out… I know I shouldn’t’ve tried to pull you off guard at work, m’sorry. M’so sorry, love, there are so many things that went wrong an’ it’s not all your fault an’ it’s all a mess…”

He set down his drink, tears just on the brink of forming. The barista still gone, thank fuck. Eggsy looked back up at Harry; who was rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. He was taking it all in and was trying to think of what he could say.

What the hell could he say? Sure, he’s thought about this, _however,_ he didn’t think Eggsy would say that he was at fault. He never expected him to be so… _mature._  

And that scares the fuck out of Harry; what the hell kind of opinion did he have of Eggsy? Did he think he was some petulant child? Did he _really_ expect so little of him?

“You didn’t think I’d say that, right?” Eggsy questions, head tilt and all. He just read his fucking mind - _Christ_ \- was Harry’s expression that obvious?!

“To be honest, no. I… I didn’t really know… I didn’t even expect you to stay as long as you have.” Harry looks away, contemplating.

“So you just expected me to act like a fucking baby? Throw a tantrum an’ storm out? Is that what you think of me?” Anger overcame him and he clenched his fists. His jaw was set and he tried so hard to not blow up at Harry, because it would be so _damn_ easy. 

“Eggsy - please, let me explain,” They both took a deep breath, Harry adjusted his glasses. “It’s hard, with this age gap, to see you as anything other than a child - not saying you _are_ a child - you’re just so damn _young_ and it’s so damn _hard_ to correct that line between young and young _adult._ I… I never saw you anymore than someone I need to care for and protect, I-I never wanted to venture into the thought of you being old enough to take care of yourself… on your own…”

Eggsy’s face hadn’t changed. He was still situated the same way and he still had that damn resting face of unimpressed.

“So from what I’m getting from this, is that you neva’ saw me as anythin’ more than a child? I was just some kid you could throw around an’ fuck when you please? You never took me seriously, Harry. You still think of me as a fuckin’ baby.” Eggsy got up, grabbing his drink and Harry almost pulled him back down, thinking he was going to leave him.

He merely peaked over the counter to see where the barkeep was at, and when the coast was clear, Eggsy pulled the bar’s Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby tap handle; a strong brew.

If he was going to hash this out, he was going to be a hell of a lot more intoxicated than he already is.

“Whetha’ you think of me as a kid or not, which is a bit understandable. Ridiculous, but understandable, the bottom line, ‘Arry, is that we don’ know what the _fuck_ we’re doin’.” Eggsy sat back down and, upon seeing the confused (and slightly insulted) look on Harry’s face, smiled as he drank his pint. “It’s true, mate.”

“I like to believe I have somewhat of a knowledge on relationships.” Harry retorted.

“I believe that. I also believe ya’ know how to use ya’ mouth but tha’s beside the point.” Harry smiled at him, genuine, the way his eyes crinkled and it reached to every part of his face. Eggsy loved that smile, that genuine, Harry Hart look. He hates how hard this is going to be.

“What do you mean, Eggsy?” Harry asked, keeping him on track.

“This is so new for bof’ of us,” Harry looked at him quizzically, “You’ve neva’ dated anyone inside Kingsman, yeah?”

Harry nodded.

“And I’ve only been doin’ this job for a handful of months. It’s new and it’s exciting but it’s so foreign. We’re not normal, Harry. We’re not conventional.”

Eggsy sighed and Harry spoke up, “I think we have our conventionalities.”

“Harry Jackson Hart we both work for a covert spy organization.”

Harry smiled again. Eggsy sighed.

“We need to hash this out an’ figure out what we’re doing.” They both nodded, “What do you want out of this Harry?”

“Firstly, I want to apologize for my rash actions earlier, dear. This new position, as you know, is bloody stressful and me exploding at you like that did not help _whatsoever._ I was a right twat and I am genuinely sorry. I’m talking to Merlin first thing when we go into the shop today about arranging some lighter paperwork or an assistant or _something_ to help.”

Eggsy fucking beamed at that.

“Secondly, I don't want you to think that I'm doing this, or have been doing this for the past seven months, to treat you like some damn rent boy. I am in this for  _you,_ nothing to gain out of it for myself other than the sheer happiness and joy of having you in my life. Don't think for a second that I'm using you or don't care about you. Given, my actions earlier proved otherwise and again,  _very sorry my dear._ I know that I snapped and that's the last thing you want, so I definitely... well..." Harry even used air quotes, "lost my cool."

"I'm in this for you and I've always been in this for the  _both_ of us. I know I've been a right twat lately and haven't... well I haven't done jack shit and that's _going to change_. I know this is going to be work and I _am_ willing to put in all that work. How does that sound?" He smiled at Eggsy, wholeheartedly and bright.

"That sounds brilliant." Eggsy smiled right back, wholeheartedly and even brighter. 

The young man across from Harry was disheveled. Harry never realized these intricate details until they weren’t there. He wasn’t slouching anymore, he didn’t have this permanent frown. His persona was brighter after Harry made his schpiel. He was smiling more than before and he was just lighter. Eggsy looked phenomenal, even in yesterday’s clothes. He took to heart how the honesty in his words made Eggsy feel, and remembered to tell him every day how much he cares about him.

“If we’re really going to commit to this, then I’m in it for the long of it. I don’t want to just be casual about it, I want the entirety of Britain to know that you’re mine, Eggsy.”

"You want everyone to know that we're...  _dating?_ " The words sounded weird in Eggsy's mouth; he's never really committed so long to someone. But after a thought, he realized that it was a good feeling, being Harry Hart's boyfriend.

"I'll even mail Parliament." He mused.

“Even the Queen?”

“Even the bloody Queen.”

The boyish laugh Eggsy had made Harry’s heart flutter. Everything about him just made Harry feel younger and happier.

“So if we’re going to do this we need to set some ground rules an’...”

“Ground rules?” Harry put that half-smile on and Eggsy almost turned to putty.

“Y’know like… I would walk JB and you like to cook so you do the cooking and we’re both pretty good at cleaning so we take shifts on cleaning or clean together or we could maybe set up some kind of chart like I clean on Tuesdays n’ Thursdays n’ Saturdays-” 

“Eggsy, my god, slow down.” Eggsy blushed and took a deep breath, explaining how he’s just excited. Harry adjusted his glasses and continued, “What you’re saying is that we just need to figure out how to fit into each other’s lives.”

“Yes.” Eggsy reached across the table and grabbed Harry’s hands.

“We don’t need to figure out a cleaning schedule to fit together and weave ourselves into the other, Eggsy. We do that on our own time.”

“But we need to discuss certain things, Harry.” Eggsy’s face was a bit straighter; serious.

Harry tensed every so slightly, “Like what?”

“Like habits like… like how you always keep your shoes downstairs and how I like to sleep naked but I’ve been wearing boxers for the past few months to not freak you out.”

“You sleep nude?”

“Well I used to.”

“Eggsy, dear, don’t think I’d be freaked out if you came into my bed stark naked.”

Eggsy blushed and they sat there and had a long and hard conversation about dislikes and likes, about morning routines and everything in between.

“Also, don’t think I’m not gonna hold that lil’ outburst over you for a few days. Still a bit sore from it, to be honest.” Eggsy looked Harry in the eyes and made sure to try as sound as honest as possible. New leaf means honesty in this relationship, he thinks.

“That’s alright with me, love.” Harry just smiled and Eggsy just smiled and everything was going to be okay.

They went back to Harry’s a few hours later and got ready for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT YEAH CHAPTER THREE  
> WHOOOOOO  
> Okay next chapter we got office romance, brace yourselves kids.
> 
> Special thanks to Carter, who this is actually dedicated to. Proofread and gave me notes and everything!  
> ALSO! THANK YOU TO SallySkellington18 FOR GIVING ME IDEAS AND HELPING ME CLEAR MY WRITERS BLOCK!
> 
> YOU GUYS ROCK!  
> Next chapter MIGHT take a little bit longer (I'm camp counselling next week) so I tried to make this one a bit longer for you guys :)  
> I might make a little side-chapter for fluff and fill-in just to pass the time for the real story line to take place!  
> Stay tuned!
> 
> -Charlie


	4. Whatever You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler. Harry and Eggsy remember their favorite missions together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click links in new tab :)

Harry knew Eggsy was fit, based on records and whatnot. He was not prepared, however, when he saw the replay of the water submersion test. Eggsy, soaking wet and shirtless, did only one thing to Harry Hart.

It made him harder than a fucking _rock._

So it took some time and a lot of thinking about what the fuck that means. He finally concluded that, no, it would not be illegal if he decided to make a move, Eggsy is attractive and Harry wanted every piece of him.

Pretty decent conclusion, Harry thought. Eggsy thought so too based on the first night they kissed, so, Harry thought his conclusions were excellent and he should get some kind of reward.

His reward was not only Eggsy in his bed, but it was Eggsy in his life.

Sweet Gary Unwin in his messed up life. Harry was content.

Given, things weren’t peaches and cream, considering this recount is about an argument but we will get to that in the next chapter. Harry (and Eggsy) is recounting his first experiences with the other and, as a filler chapter, you all will be pleased about it.

The first time they kissed, as stated in previous chapters, was when they were both drunk and Eggsy was on a high from getting so far in Kingsman. Harry was just damn pleased to have a drunk Eggsy in his midst, no matter how pissed Harry himself was. Drunk with Eggsy was one of Harry’s favorite things, because they were both so damn giggly and flirty as drunks. That’s why, both of them, are normally intoxicated on honeypot missions; it’s easier that way.

It’s also easier to ignore the other being jealous through the comms when they have to seduce some government head from God-knows-where. A lot easier.

So the first time they kissed it was sloppy and wet and Harry loved every second of it. Tongues slid ever so slightly in and out of mouths and the only sound in the room was lip smacking, the tick-tock of the wall clock and JB’s snoring.

The snoring is something Harry normally leaves out every time he thinks about their first kiss; it’s just better that way.

It was hot, in short terms. Eggsy crawled on Harry’s lap and straddled him as best as he could in the awkward position they were in. Harry had Eggsy’s face in both his hands, cradling him and kissing him ever so passionate, needy, hungry.

They made their way to the couch, almost tripping over anything and everything whilst kissing. Making their way up the stairs, slowly, Eggsy almost tripped and Harry caught him, hand at the small of his back. Eggsy smiled, pulled Harry back down and ate his fucking face. It’s ridiculous how accurate that statement is; teeth and tongue and that pleasure-mad craving that Eggsy had. Feeling Harry’s strong hand holding him from falling and being wrapped in his arms just made Eggsy go ape. It was all primal and voracious and Eggsy, and Harry, wanted to tear each other apart and make them whole just to get back at it again.

That night was the first of many late nights. Many feet-tangled-in-sheets and many early morning blow jobs and so much desire for the other. Which, one could argue, was their problem. There was a lot of kissing and not enough “hey let’s talk about our feelings and discuss our relationship.” Not enough communication. Plenty of second base and home runs but not enough discussion. Harry and Eggsy could talk their way out of the clutches of a mob boss on a mission and get someone to go back to their hotel room with them, but talking to each other about honest feelings was their worst field. It’s one thing to lie to some stranger on the field but to actually define the relationship with your significant other at your home base is a whole other mission in and of itself.

But Harry doesn’t want to think about that right now. Right now he wants to pick a memory and think of it; play-by-play. He spun the metaphorical wheel of memories in his head and landed on…

 

 

[ **Did You See Jackie Robinson Hit That Ball? - Paul Svenson** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcahLxfaAIk)

 

It wasn’t their first mission together, but it was damn significant. They were at a major league baseball game in America, because a target they were following was a big Tigers fan. Harry doesn’t know much about American baseball, but he knows that the Tigers aren’t very good (they haven’t won something called " a world series" in over 30 years).

“I mean, the Tiger’s fans are nothing in comparison to the Giants…” He was half listening to Eggsy as they walked into the stadium after shuffling through the turn style, “I’d rank their fan base at a 5 out of top 10 fan followings, y’know?”

Eggsy’s American accent was, all in all, adorable. He said y’know in a very westcoast diction that made Harry smile at the word. He looked down to his right and put his arm around the boy, trying to find their seats.

Merlin’s voice came over the comms, “Boys you need to get up to the box seats- take a left here.” Harry directed them to the hallway that was outside the stadium itself, where the smell of hotdogs and popcorn filtered through the air.

“Talk to the gentlemen that is standing at the end of that staircase; show him your tickets.” Merlin directed from the HQ in London. Merlin rolled from one monitor to the next, checking the luxury suite for their target, “Mr. Harrison just entered the suite, remember your covers.”

“Merlin, we’re not twelve we know how to keep a cover.” Eggsy said with his cocky grin. He looked over at Harry and winked.

“If you’re so good at your cover then why are you letting your accent slip, _Carter_?” If Eggsy thought his accent was good, it was nowhere in comparison to Harry’s. It was definitely west coast, but he had full inflection, stressing his vowels and adding that “o-i” and pulled “y” mixture to his words. Harry had obviously done a west American accent before, and it’s kind of turning Eggsy on. Harry can tell by the way he’s looking at him, full lashes through a bona fide Kubrick stare.

“For godsakes, Carter, we don’t have time for your-”

“Gentlemen, please.” Eggsy was still staring at Harry, intense, while Merlin spoke, “Box seats.”

They handed their tickets over to the guard at the bottom of the stairs, and the guard just shook his head.

“These tickets aren’t right.” Harry and Eggsy looked at each other, confused, “You are, however, right next to the dugout.” He showed the men the way to their seats and, within a matter of puzzled seconds, they were heading in the opposite direction of the luxury suite.

“Merlin… why the fuck are our seats near the dugout.” Harry growled, Eggsy could hear it through his comms, but it was so much clearer standing right next to him. It was so much clearer and about 14x hotter and, as if on cue, his pants tightened ever so slightly.

Merlin mumbled off about how his assistant, Bors, fucked things up about their tickets. He said that he can try to figure out a way to fix the problem but they will have to be dugout sitters for now.

They went to their seats after grabbing some food and beverages and Eggsy noticed Harry’s leg bouncing up and down the way it does when he’s stressed. His eyes was on the baseball players, playing their regular game but his gaze was glazing over; he wasn’t attending body and soul; he was just body. His mind was otherwhere; on the mission, on the luxury suite.

Eggsy grabbed his hand, grabbing his attention as well. Harry looked at his fond smile, his reassuring smile, telling him that this will work out. Telling him that Merlin will get them inside and they will get their target and all will be well. Harry turned their hands over and wound their fingers together on top of the arm rest. Harry looked at Eggsy with a fond expression, smiling and leaning over to whisper in his ear,

“Bors is going to get an earful when we get back.”

Eggsy smiled and turned his head to briefly catch his partner’s lips. Harry smiled, Eggsy smiled and Merlin scoffed.

“Okay crazy kids look alive. We might have an opening for you to sneak in.”

Harry broke away from Eggsy and, still wrapped up in his personal space, didn’t break their eye contact, “What is it, Merlin?” Eggsy just smiled back at him.

God, did he love his job.

Merlin explained that the guards take shifts and the next shift switch would be in twenty-five minutes. There was a small gap in between guards taking spots so if they kept that window open and snuck upstairs without being seen, they could get do just that, sneak upstairs. The entrance to the suite was shielded off by another security guard and they would either have to A. Distract him, B. Knock him out, or C.  Seduce him.

“You know we’re never ones to shy away from plan C but I think we can easily handle this situation with A or B.” Harry said. Eggsy laughed, lighthearted, and squeezed Harry’s hand. Harry smiled, teeth and all, at Eggsy’s laugh.

That picture is saved in Eggsy’s mind and he thinks about it when he misses Harry. The scene of Harry, sitting field-side to a Giants/Yankees game with a dorky baseball cap on (faded at the bill) and his horn-rimmed glasses on, smiling his Harry Hart smile (with a 100% genuine guarantee) and holding his hand. Perfect moment, right there.

Merlin told them that he would let them discuss basics on all plans, just in case one failed, and would tell them when the golden opportunity struck for sneaking upstairs. They all agreed a distraction would be best, amnesia would be second best and, if karma was being an absolute twat that day, plan C was their go-to route.

It had been maybe ten minutes when the cotton-candy vendor came ‘round, carrying his tray of pink fluffy wands of joy and hollering for customers. Eggsy turned to Harry, like a child, and smiled wide. He hoped Harry would let him, and let him he did.

“Over here!” He yelled, grabbing the young man’s attention. He exchanged three dollars with a wand of cotton-candy and thanked the guy. He walked off and Eggsy turned to his left, offering his partner some. Harry obliged.

“I haven’t had cotton-candy in…” He looked at the pink fluff in his hand, “15 years, maybe 25.”

“Shit, 25? You’ve got to love yourself, babe.” Eggsy kissed his cheek and took some more candy, sipping his soda and cheering on his team.

Just then, the fan-favorite _Kiss Kam_ searched the crowd for love-sick couples and landed on the classic old married couple, a million heterosexual couples and your token stereotypical lesbians. The knights were laughing at something Harry remarked about skin-tight baseball pants when, lo and behold, the camera panned on them.

Eggsy was smiling wide, turning left and winking at Harry. Harry was so hopped up on sugar and mission-adrenaline that he pulled Eggsy by the back of the neck and laid one on him.

If there was one thing Harry could remember from that mission, it was that kiss. Lips and a bit of tongue and the sweet, sweet taste of cotton-candy. The crowd cheering as they angled their heads and opened their mouths wider, taking in the environment of hollers and whistles. The sound of Merlin shouting _“YOU’RE GOLDEN, NOW STOP SNOGGIN’ AND GET TO THE SUITE!”_ and the two mercilessly breaking apart to kidnap and interrogate a target.

Harry always liked America, his best memories being on missions there. Lately, with Eggsy. They even took holiday in New York, lounging around and being the best tourists they could be. The picture of them inside Lady Liberty still hangs on Harry’s fridge.

 

 

One of Eggsy’s favorite mission-memories, however, was when they were at the Prime-Minister's-delegates dinner of sorts. Harry, who was cranky from the flight and a few stab wounds from a previous mission, was rightly bored. He had no reason to be here, considering Galahad and Percival were handling things perfectly fine, but he reasoned that Eggsy in that suit was good enough, trousers clinging in perfect places and whatnot.

They were sitting across from each other, Galahad and Arthur, and Galahad was chatting up a young woman, about his age. Harry noticed the smile Eggsy was giving the young woman; the left side of his mouth picking up. It was small, but familiar. Harry knew that smile, that _Harry hop in the shower with me_ smile. That fucking _Harry fuck me in your office_ smile. It’s his honeypot mission smile and, last time Harry checked, this is not a _goddamn_ honeypot. Add his preexisting status to the fact his motherfucking _boyfriend_ is flirting with some _Italian princess_ or whoever and Harry just toppled over from bored and cranky to jealous and slightly horny.

He took affirmative action, rubbing Eggsy’s ankle with his derby. Eggsy’s smile twitched up, but nothing more than that as a sign of reaction. Harry upped his game, sitting up more and taking a sip of his ice water (ice water; this place is fancy), smirks and crinkles by his eyes as he drank.

Eggsy looked over the girl’s shoulder (he thinks she’s the Countess of Barcelona) to see Percival chatting up the Prime Minister himself, he uses his slight of hand to reach into the Prime Minister’s pocket and retrieve his cell phone. Percival looked at him giving him the signal, a simple flick of the wrist (45 degrees exactly), took to the designated rendezvous point.

Eggsy smiled at the Countess (Duchess, maybe?) and excused himself, squeezing her shoulder. He didn’t give Harry a glance, just _their_ designated signal, which was him sliding his glass two inches away from himself. He got up and left, Harry boring angry eyes into the back of his head.

“So what are we looking for, Merlin?” Galahad asked, peering over Percival’s shoulder.

“Contacts; look for the…” Merlin mumbled, typing away at his keyboard. “Strosso? Someone named Strosso.”

“I believe the Countess of Barcelona’s a Strosso.” Eggsy whispered. Countess. Right. Countess Mariella.

“You spoke with the Countess of Barcelona?” Merlin asked, baffled.

“He did.”

Percival and Eggsy both turned on the balls of their feet in the well-lit and fancy-tiled floor of the elegant bathroom to a familiar voice. Irritation and a soft sigh stuck in the words ' _he did_ ’. Eggsy had a tiny smile forming, but mentally kicked himself because Harry was A. cranky, 2. protective and lasty, zealous.

He _did_ hum in agreement, though, eyes never leaving Harry’s suit-clad form. Arthur's left hand trapped in a pocket, lazily so. His right easily dangling by his side; signet ring gleaming in the overhead chandelier in a fucking bathroom.

 _Posh git_ , Eggsy thought. He looked Harry up and down, letting his small smile come out to play. The left corner of his mouth tweaked up higher; Eggsy liked to call the left Ambition. His right, saved for certain moments was normally for those bitter laughs and right-sided sadness. He called this one Brackish.

Right side: sad, bitter Eggsy. Left side: cheeky, desirous Eggsy. Tonight was the night Harry figured that out about his boyfriend.

“Percival please excuse us.”

Percival softly shut the door on his way out (a lock turning, bless him) and Harry moved to Eggsy's left, looking at the mirror behind him. He didn't spare a glace at his lover, only went to the counter to adjust his [bow tie he donned](http://www.armani.com/us/armanicollezioni/bow-tie_cod46416238ml.html#dept=crvttrac) for the evening. Eggsy reached out, ever so slightly, but withdrew his hand. Game time.

"How  _is_ the princess?" Harry asked, coy and all.

"I'm quite fine, 'fanks." Eggsy responded, cheek and all.

Harry let his smile meet Eggsy's through mirror reflections; he turned around. Eggsy walked forward at Harry's beckoning, situating himself between his legs.

"Someone a bit jealous, yeah?" He mouthed at Harry's jawline, teeth scraping lightly. Harry breathed through his nose, eyes tightly shut.

Harry had his hands on Eggsy's neck, and when Eggsy suddenly found himself on his knees in front of his superior, his hands were on his shoulders and tangled in his hair. Eggsy smiled, broad shoulders loosening. He smoothed his hands over the back of Harry's clothed legs, taking it in. Harry started to undo his belt, but his hands were batted away, re-positioned in Eggsy's hair and his grip tightening as the young lad mouthed him through his briefs.

 

[ **Jet Boy Jet Girl - Crocodiles** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aO_Bp7qxSA)

 

"Good _God..."_ Harry mumbled.

"Lads... I-I know you do this often and that is why I'm chiming in..." It could be told through comms and across countries that Merlin was smirking as he said this, "But for the love of the good Queen herself, take your glasses off. Last time I see _this_ bit..."

They both laughed, Harry discarding his against the counter, and bringing his hands down softly to take Eggsy's off, just as he pulled his semi-hard cock from his clad briefs; lashes and grin all staring up at Harry. His breath easily caught in his chest.

"Is this what it would've looked like for you? If she was down there on you?" Harry asked, sweetness slathered in his tone. "On her knees with your cock against her face?" He spoke the last line from the back of his throat, gripping Eggsy's hair; fingers locking.

Eggsy only hummed, taking Harry's length in him. He hollowed out, Harry noted, trying to make this fast. He did some of his tricks right away, from licking up the vein to nibbling at Harry's hip bone. Eggsy bat his goddamn lashes up at him and Harry felt suspended in time.

Jesus Harold _Christ_ he was going to come soon. 

And, as Eggsy sucked the head and brought a hand to Harry's balls, squeezing, Harry shot right into Eggsy's mouth. Taking it all, the lad even licked the residue off the corners of his mouth, looking at Harry as he stood up. He sucked his fingers, eye contact never breaking, and Harry grabbed him by the lapels of his blazer and full on attacked him.

The taste of bitter come was on Eggsy's tongue, as expected. Harry smiled and broke away, attacking his neck next, forcing Eggsy to drop his blazer, undo his tie and take a few buttons off in what seemed one go.

"I'm going to," He sucked the tone skin, "mark you up," _nibble, nibble, lick_ , "so everyone in this damn building knows you're mine."

Harry only caught Eggsy's blissed-out nod before he was back again on his neck. He took the flesh between his teeth, even thought about drawing blood but decided later would suffice. He kissed all over Eggsy's skin like a hungry traveler looking for some nourishment. He bit his collar bone and licked and fucking sucked the tender skin between his clavicle.

Eggsy moaned, loudly. No shame. No suppression. Full on, guttural, porn-star moan. Harry made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, pressing his once-again hard cock up against Eggsy's (unfairly clothed) groin.

Harry pulled at Eggsy's trousers and gone they were in a count of four heavy breaths. Pants amiss as well, and Harry grabbed for the full, aching cock twitching beneath him.

"Jesus  _fuck_ tha's..." Eggsy breathed out, Harry ran his thumb over the head and put pressure on the slit, dribbling pre-come, "tha's good, 'Arry..."

Harder, quicker motions and Eggsy was close; very, very close. He came to out of this cloud of pleasure and recognized the fully-hard cock in Harry's pants. He pulled down the briefs and grabbed at Harry's throbbing dick, licking his hand once and slicking it up. He gnawed at the underside of Harry's jaw; sensitivity rippling through Arthur as Eggsy grabbed for him again.

There they were, hopelessly getting each other off in one of the many posh bathrooms on Downing Street in their bespoke (rumpled) suits and breathy moans filling the silence of the room. Their heavy pants and small escapes of _"Haaaarrrryyyy"_ and _"God damn, Eggsy..."_ in low, throaty rumbles just egged each other on. Up until they both came with a shout (Harry) and a bite (Eggsy, effectively drawing a bit of blood at that).

Eggsy was licking at the small blood coming from Harry's jaw, by his ear. There were quiet sounds coming from Harry, soft-like moans that barely reached the top of his throat. He was looking up, eyes closed, as Eggsy attacked his throat once again.

"Agent Galahad I'm going to have to ask you bend over this counter." He said, strain and hard desperation. Eggsy, man he's grown into, whined, followed up by an actual growl. He growled like a motherfucking bear. The use of his code name made him rut up against Harry like an animal.

Harry's cock pulsed in Eggsy's come-sodden hand.

 

**[Howlin' For You - The Black Keys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSCsoQ87MQ8) **

 

Somewhere in the middle of it all, they both lost their trousers and underwear in a heap of clothes scattered throughout the bathroom. The _Prime Minister's_ bathroom. Harry smiled at the fact he was going to get Eggsy's come all over the old git's counter tops and took to work. 

Eggsy was bent over the counter, arms crossed in front of him comfortably. His puckered hole waited for Harry, and the sight of it made his mouth water. Using that to his advantage, he stuck two fingers in his mouth and promptly got to opening his subordinate up. Eggsy pushes back, naturally, and lets out a plethora of noises. One digit, two, three and Harry knew he was ready. There was sweat staining Eggsy's white button-down from behind and his neck was hot with desire. Harry kissed between Eggsy's shoulder blades, up to his neck and behind his ear he whispered, 

"You may flirt with her for the sake of the mission, but I won't allow you blatantly ignoring me, _Galahad._ " Another groan from in front of him, fingers scissoring the agent open. "What shall I ever do?" Harry kissed the soft spot behind his ear.

Eggsy breathed out in-audible words and Harry grabbed his cock from behind, slow, tantalizing strokes.

"Hmm?" Another kiss, "Didn't quite hear you..." 

"You should fuck me right now as punishment." Eggsy got out, breathy and whimpering. Harry's fingers were gone and suddenly, his tip was pressing as a tease against Eggsy's hole.

"As punishment...?" Harry trailed off. Eggsy pressed back against the head of his cock in recognition of the word he wants to hear.

"As punishment, _Arthur._ "

The head went in, Eggsy almost blacked out and Harry gasped for air.

He slowly pushed further, spit and left-over come from the previous orgasm slicking his hard member. Bare skin inside bare skin made Harry, Harry Motherfucking Hart, whimper. He grabbed for Eggsy's hand on the counter and laced their fingers together.

"My sweet boy..." He whispered, "How I love you..." Once he got balls-deep, he decided to slowly find his way back to entrance. 

The rhythm evened out and Eggsy was gasping, coming and yelling all in due time. The sound of skin-on-skin and Harry whispering little praises behind Eggsy's ear only made Eggsy more desperate for orgasmic release. Eggsy fucked him back, talking about how good Harry's cock feels deep inside him and how that Lady or Countess or whoever would wish to be here right now. He went on about how he is Harry's and only Harry's and how much he fucking loves him.

He probably shouted that last bit at least ten times when he came, Harry following suit.

 

A face fuck, two handys and a wild shag later, the Prime Minister had his phone back, the Strosso family was currently being tracked by the one and only Merlin and Percival was sent back home in his own plane.

 

 

Eggsy smiled at the memory as he dressed himself in new clothes after a fresh shower. His combed hair was still wet on his head, his horn-rimmed glasses on the dresser and he was currently looking for a tie for the day.

When asked, Harry pointed at the [red patterned one](http://www.armani.com/us/giorgioarmani/tie_cod46386078jh.html#dept=llmnwmnn) Merlin gifted him his last birthday. The same old shoes were tied and Eggsy picked out some [garnet cufflinks](http://www.polyvore.com/david_yurman_signet_cuff_links/thing?id=30799862) to match. Red was the color of the day it seemed.

Harry [decided](http://www.culturetaste.com/Dimitrios-Exclusive-MA19-Sterling-Silver-Garnet-Medieval-Byzantine-Cufflinks-p1947.html?utm_source=google-shopping&utm_medium=organic&gclid=CjwKEAjw6IauBRCJ3KPXkNro1BoSJAAhXxpy3Yp6h_OXcbMU41vXrl3-_XGKq6miUv1U_nUhSA_GRBoCILLw_wcB) [he](http://www.brooksbrothers.com/Alternating-Stripe-Tie/MA01941,default,pd.html?dwvar_MA01941_Color=DKRD&contentpos=9&cgid=0210) [would](http://www.brooksbrothers.com/Gold-Plated-Crisscross-Tie-Bar/UC00002,default,pd.html?dwvar_UC00002_Color=GOLD&contentpos=13&cgid=) [match](https://img1.etsystatic.com/028/0/5792247/il_570xN.551715327_iuds.jpg). The hints of gold made Eggsy smile, thinking nothing but Hogwarts Express and he kissed Harry’s cheek.

“Ready to go to work, love?”

“Always.”

They clasped hands, and walked out the front.


	5. Whatever Makes You Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartwin inside Kingsman HQ - alone and apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm posting the first part of this chapter. Second part to come soon. I don't think it will be too long, but I will be posting snippets and updates.
> 
> More Merlin and Harry! More Roxy and Eggsy!
> 
> Update: Okay so this is the rest of the chapter, I'll get on Ch. 6 asap. I'm so sorry I take so long putting this together you guys! I've never been good with writing to write out most of the fic and then post it. I'm sorry! Bear with me!

**[Under Pressure - David Bowie and Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWdLt3Afjrg) **

 

Merlin side eyed the couple as they strolled into the headquarters after getting off the tram from the tailor shop in London. Eggsy was laughing at something Harry had said and, because of the sheer adorableness, Harry was smirking. They walked right past Merlin, completely isolated from those around them, and stopped at the end of the hallway leading to a new set of corridors to a vast catacombs of room after room in the Kingsman headquarters.

Eggsy leant in to whisper something in Harry’s ear, a slight pink brushed his cheeks and, after a few seconds, his eyes widened to an abnormal amount.

“Oh for Christ’s sake would yew two gi’over yerselves!” Merlin shouted over the low murmur of the room. His Scottish accent echoed, full irritation breaking sound barrier of the normal sound of work. There were technical agents at their desks, typing away and paying slight attention to their computers. To pass through to the many corridors, one would have to pass through one of Merlin’s many technical stations. The current one, where this tiny display was taking place, was Tech Room H. Tech Room H was somewhat of a backdoor entrance, taken by the back tram through dressing room eight, when agents wanted to be discreet and sneak their way through with little notice.

Harry and Eggsy both failed to do so.

Merlin’s short and very necessary outburst caused all of the key clattering all throughout Tech Room H to stop all at once, and, due to the sound of utter uncomfortable silence, Merlin looked around the room in a slight shock.

“What? Jus’ because I’m callin’ these two out on their shite doesn’ mean you all can stop werkin!” Merlin shouted, much louder this time, and made his way over to the couple at the end of the hall, “And yew two. Get yerselves off each other,” he swatted his hand in between them, “get to yer designated quarters,” he pulled out his tablet and started flipping through pages, “an’ ya can make up for yer’ lovers quarrel _on yer own time._ We have a country _to keep in line.”_

“Lover’s quarrel?” Harry asked, cocking a brow. Merlin leveled him with a look, and handed him the tablet.

“When I’m bein’ rung at four thirty in tha’ mornin’,” he glanced at Eggsy, “it’s a god damned lover’s quarrel.” He turned his full body to Harry, “Now, a word, _Arthur_ , there are some pressin’ matters at hand.”

As Harry was being dragged away by his Head of Intel, he looked longingly over his shoulder at Eggsy, who was standing there confused and at a loss. He looked, once again, like the epitome of an adorable puppy and all Harry wanted to do was run back, pick him up, and coddle him for eternity. He understands wholly how he feels now when he talks about Harry always being busy.

Harry stopped, turned around and faced Eggsy. He straightened the lapels on his coat and smiled at him.

“Galahad, I know you’re well aware of the _pressing matters_ ,” Harry gave Merlin the most evil side eye he could muster, “at hand and I apologize for a cut conversation. We can discuss further later I presume?”

Eggsy still looked very, very confused.

"In my office.”

Eggsy’s face broke into a painfully handsome smile. He nodded once and saluted Harry.

“Of course, sir. I’ll ask Merlin when he can pencil me in.” Eggsy spoke in his posh “work accent” as Harry (and Roxy and Merlin and literally everyone else) calls it. He turned on his heel, glancing over his shoulder to throw Harry a wink.

Harry was standing in the middle of Tech Room H, smug, a little hard and just now realizing everyone was staring at him.

“Saint Peter help you all, _get back to work_.” He clipped. He turned to walk with Merlin again and, taking the short walk to his office, were discussing the world matters.

Merlin closed the door and walked over to the prompted screen. He walked Harry through all the other information they received the night before that Harry hasn’t been debriefed on and upcoming missions he needs to assign and look over.

“Merlin how do you do it all?” Harry asked him.

“What do you mean?” Merlin, still pointing at something on the screen, had a null expression. He was a bit surprised Harry just asked such a blunt question when, _hello_ , Istanbul needs agents deployed _Harry you big enamored dope._

“You are my eyes and ears and run a whole branch of this organization and still you’re able to debrief me and be my second hand- _how is that possible_?” Harry adjusted his glasses on his nose, and knit his fingers together in his lap.

“It’s not _all_ me, Arthur, you know that. I’ve got people doin’ designated jobs’n’errands. You of all people should know I can’t do all this.” Merlin moved to adjust his glasses too, out of habit. He sighed, “I was actually goin’ta talk to ya about this later,” he gave up on the debrief and pulled up a chair beside his friend. “I’m stressed as all hell, since Chester an’ debreifing you day in an’ day out is fuckin’ me over.”

Harry laughed at the evaporated tension, and Merlin kept on, “I think I need ta just stick ta technicals n’ recruits. Sure I can do other lil’ jobs aroun’ but it’s all a bit much.”

“Maybe I need an assistant.” Harry sighed. “I think I should move someone up to debrief me and run as a second in command. You can stick to whatever you’re comfortable with, because, and let’s be frank, you’re the best at this position, Merlin.”

“You don’ need to tell me that at all.” Merlin quipped with a cheeky smile.

Harry just smiled and continued quickly, “I could have someone debrief me; help me on paperwork,” he adjusted in his seat, fiddling with his blazer, “They can ease up on all this shit I’ve been dealing with since Chester.” A pause, and a sneer of disgust, “What an arse.”

“Agreed. What an arse.” He placed his hand by his ear, looking like one of those American Secret Service blokes, “Bors, you’ll have to manage things in between yourself and Kay; I’m busy.”

And, with that, Arthur and Merlin spent the next few hours working on the specific job title and requirements for this position, thinking of agents to bring up and ways to overall improve how things run around the Kingsman facility.

It was a list on a legal pad, because Harry preferred paper than digital and  _ Merlin you can shove the iPad up your arse I do. not. care. _ There was a fluid cursive inking the paper and things like bullet points, underlines and a coffee stain. Overall, it screamed  _ stereotypical work-related list _ and Harry felt like they did a pretty good job on this. The legal pad and its contents read as follows: 

 

_ Job Title: Second in Command? Assistant to Head? Case Officer? Chief of Station/Quarters/Knights? Maybe a  _ _ Knight-related name _ _ ? _

_ Job Ranking: Below Head of Intel and Arthur, but above field knights and ground agents. _

_ Job Requirements: *  _ _ go over all of this with Merlin _

 

  * __Debrief - cases to assign/ongoing/completed, intel, world relations, branch overview...__


  * _Paperwork - file/assign and occasionally sift through (_ _mostly rubbish_ _)_


  * _New Agent Recruit/Training - can assign another agent to train._ _Must handle_ _new agent recruitment process._


  * _Controller to Agents/Operations (_ _alongside_ _Merlin on most occasions - mainly to overlook_ _agent reports to Arthur_ _)_


  * _Agent Relations - even a spy organization needs a communications personnel_


  * _Field operations_ _must_ _have high marks as well as hands-on combat and weapon handling. Marks on all psycho-analyzed tests must be_ _above average_ _. As well as written and oral work._


  * _No pricks._ _WILL NOT ALLOW_ _. AKA: people person. No sticks up arses and must be good with communication and relations._


  * _Organization. Promptness. Confidence._



 

 

“Well, H, I think that just about does it, yeah?” Merlin sat back in his chair, drank his coffee (even though it was midday, the caffeinated bastard) and tossed the pen back onto the desk.

“I think it does, yeah.” Harry carded his fingers through his slightly mussed hair, “Good work, Merlin.”

“Cheers.” Merlin raised his mug and took another sip, and Harry heaved himself up out of the giant leather chair. He walked to the mirror in the corner, adjusted his hair to make it look decent and turned curtly to his friend.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some  _ other  _ pressing matters at hand.” Harry smiled, checked his watch and started for the door.

“Well you have to pick the job, don’chya?” Merlin chided.

“Oh I know, that’s exactly where I’m headed, Merlin.” Harry turned, gave him a wink, and exited the office.

Merlin sat in his chair and rolled his eyes.

“Twat.”

Eggsy and Roxy were in their quarters, cleaning and chatting and doing whatever they could to keep themselves busy while not particularly assigned anything. Earlier, they had made the beds and dusted the shelves and gone over their reports for their latest assignments. Roxy just got back from Baghdad and was very excited to see Eggsy again. Pulling a small wrapped package from her case, she handed it to Eggsy and it was revealed that it was an Assyrian figurine from the Mid-Assyrian age. She said it was only a replica, but Eggsy raved about it and was over the moon. He set him aside on the table they were seated at, and Roxy grabbed the deck of cards.

Currently, after a few games, they were playing a heated game of Gin and Eggsy had the  _ best _ hand in the world, _ thank you very much _ .

“And then he said that we’d meet in his office which…” Eggsy dragged his lower lip between his teeth, scrunching his eyebrows. Roxy could tell he wasn’t thinking about his hand, but rather the recap he as giving.

“Which…?” Roxy asked, looking back down at her cards.

“Which I don’ quite know how to feel about that.” He drew a new card, replacing one in his hand and setting it back down. Roxy took the card and kept her poker face, about ready to win once again. “Like we’re at work,  _ but _ , we did kind of have a spat and haven’t really like… made up for it?”

Eggsy scratched the back of his neck and sat up straighter, adjusting the position of his legs as he did so. He looked across the small table and raised a brow; he could tell Roxy had a good hand by how serious her face was.

“How are you an international spy, but suck at keeping your face straight for cards?” He was smirking; Roxy blushed and let out a single syllabled exclamation.

“What-?” She protested, “I am  _ amazing  _ at keeping a straight face,  _ Galahad. _ ” She put her cards face down and stared at Eggsy.  _ If looks could kill,  _ he thought.

“I’m just saying, you look like a tot torn between burping or farting you’re so serious.” With a quick, “ _ Lancelot,”  _ thrown in for good measure. She picked her cards back up, looked at the card on the deck for her turn and smirked.

“Don’t suppose I need a poker face now.”

Roxy laid down the winning hand and Eggsy damn near kicked a chair over.

“That’s 4 to 1, Eggsy, I think we should call it quits.” She was laughing as she gathered up the cards and observed Eggsy’s sportsmanlike pout.

“S’no fair. You’re cheating!” He looked at his figurine and whispered, barely audibly, “She’s cheatin’ I’m tellin’ you, Ash.”

“Ash?” Roxy turned around at the very unusual name - for an ancient Neo-Assyrian god replica.

“Named ‘im Ash. You said he was found in Ashur and I obliged to a pretty simple name.” He shrugged.

She sat back down across from Eggsy at the small table they have in their quarters, “No- I mean-  _ you named your ancient Assyrian god figurine? _ ”

“Obviously. What- do you  _ not  _ name  _ your  _ ancient god replicas your friends bring you back from dangerous missions in the middle of Iraq?”

There was a knock at the door right as the two burst into stitches. The door slowly opened and it was none other than Arthur himself, leaning against the doorframe at the sight of his Eggsy and Agent Lancelot laughing. They both looked very content and he savored the moment, a small memory of he and Merlin in their shared-quarter days flashing by.

When Eggsy noticed him standing there, he stood, Roxy quickly following suit at the glance over her shoulder, and they both were in formal parade rest at the sight of their superior. Arthur smiled, a quick observation between the two of them and gave a curt “at ease” to them.

They were both trained so well. He’s silently discouraged at how they can go from childlike joy to stone cold spies so quickly.

“Formalities are always a pain in the arse,” he says, “but that’s not why I’m here.” They’ve both sat down by now, and he looks to Eggsy who has that hopeful look on his face.

Alas, that’s not why he’s here either.

“Lancelot,” he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Eggsy for one second, “a word?” He opened his body for Roxy to walk past him out the door, and he smiled and winked at Eggsy before closing the door behind him.

They walked in silence as Harry lead them towards the outside, by the gorgeous array of hydrangeas, lilies and bluebells (and many, many more flowers) behind the main training course of Kingsman. Roxy thinks of sitting in this garden with a journal recounting her experiences at Kingsman all too well. Thinking of when Eggsy found her one day and they just hung out here when they had downtime, Roxy journaling and Eggsy bringing a notebook. They would sit in silence and, taking a deep breath, she brought herself back to present: standing with the headmaster of the independent spy organization she’s an agent for.

This could end one of two ways: she could depart from this life her with a bullet in her head or be given a slap on the back and a double thumbs up from Arthur himself. The latter unlikely in a literal sense due to Harry’s lack of unprofessionalism.

The garden extended into a greenhouse that, Roxy is sure, Merlin uses his hidden green thumb to produce all kinds of deadly poisons and toxins for Kingsman use (specifically a certain pen she’s never had the pleasure of using). They start making their way on the long trek to this greenhouse, side-by-side and hands behind their back.

The weather is crisp but sunny. It’s that weird weather that makes you want to grab a jacket but when the sun hits you forgot why you ever considered a pull-over in the first place. Roxy tightens her ponytail out of habit, and Harry adjusts his specs for the same reason. It’s quiet, just the sound of a soft wind through trees and field operatives training in the distance with the loud instruction of Merlin fading slowly in the distance. 

Harry’s hair is mussed slightly. Roxy notes how he has slight bags under his eyes and his posture isn’t trademark gentlemen that Harry oozes daily. She remembers conversations with Eggsy about the late hours, and wonders if Harry wants to confide in her as a companion or as a superior. She’s never had heart to hearts with Harry (mind the pun) and wonders why he would take her to somewhere as unprofessional as a greenhouse to talk about something so private. Is his office not safe enough? Private? Soundproof? Well that’s out, Roxy knows through descriptive detail Eggsy provided after  _ way  _ too many drinks.

They’re at the greenhouse now, and it’s a bit more posh up close than at a distance. It’s not some regular greenhouse that you see in magazines and movies; it’s very clean and prim and proper and Roxy wants to spend every day here with Merlin picking away at leaves and dissecting whatever sprout she can get her hands on. Harry observes a cluster of jacaranda flowers cut up neatly next to some cherry blossoms. He smiles, the smells and colors of the greenhouse always bring him to a blissful moment in time. He looks to his right, over his shoulder almost, to address Roxy with a sideways look,

“You’re outstanding, Lancelot.” Harry states and he feels that isn’t really how he wanted to start, so he tries again. “You’re a top notch agent, your marks are incredible and your field work superb.”

Roxy swallowed, and he noticed the smallest creep of a blush, “Thank you, sir, that means a lot.”

And it did. She didn’t want to show it but getting Harry’s praise (a lot would argue Arthur in general - but)  _ Harry Hart’s praise _ , was astounding. Roxy respected Harry, very highly. The way he held himself after all he’s been through, beating death and surviving and still being able to carry on. The mental strength alone is phenomenal, not to mention being able to handle a relationship with Eggsy (barely, but Eggsy is a handful so credit is due where credit is due regardless).

It wasn’t the fact that Harry was Arthur, that Roxy was slightly blushing and trying to hide her smile, it was the fact that Harry is  _ Harry _ , has been through the meat grinder, made it out alive, and is here to compliment Roxy on being “superb” and “incredible”. Harry of all people has the best understanding of what it means to be a Kingsman agent, and if Roxy fits that profile based on Harry’s observation, she wouldn’t trade her job for anything in the world.

“Roxanne I must ask you something and I will give you due time to process it over, but I want you to seriously consider the position.” Harry is now facing Roxy, one hand in his pocket, the other gingerly at his side. He takes a step closer to her and Roxy braces herself for the worst.

“Merlin and I have been working on creating a new position for Kingsman; a new authoritative position based on an agent we deem worthy enough to handle some of the duties directed at only myself and Merlin. We feel as if the load is a bit much and bringing on a new…” Harry sought after the right word, “member to the team might be beneficial to all of us. We need someone to handle debriefs and keep recruits in check, oversee mission operations... We need someone smart, equipped; someone who can think on their feet…” Harry paused, smiled, and continued,

“We need you, Lancelot.”  

 


	6. Your Skin Makes Me Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: not sorry for the amount of Beyoncé. Eric Bittle sends praise hand emojis.
> 
>  
> 
> **Okay, this ending is going to be very heavily based on how you all react to this very small chapter!**
> 
>  
> 
> **You want it to end just the way it does? Great.**
> 
>  
> 
> **You want more? Let me know!**
> 
>  
> 
> **We either end it with the fluffiest fluff in the fucking world OR**
> 
>  
> 
> **OR MY DUDES**
> 
>  
> 
> **We end this whole thing with smut. The smuttiest smut smut smut.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Let me know ;P**

**[***Flawless - Beyonce](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SV1XO-OHcCQ) **

Roxy had to break the news to Eggsy that she would no longer be in their living quarters, because she was moving into her own office that has a built in cot (and by cot, she soon found out, it was an actual bunk with a mattress and sheets and it was way better than what she shared with Eggsy). Her new office had a desk, a television to project intel on, her own tablet (much like Merlin’s) and she got to be on the floor more, not so much in the field.

Which was really the only downside, she had less field operations, but she was more behind the scenes and never missed out on the action. She was the sorceress behind it all, the one conducting the agent’s every move, feeding valuable information through their ear and taking down who was unfortunate enough to be taken down that week.

Roxy found a new appreciation for the behind-the-scenes operatives. She gained a new group of friends within those she worked with and Eggsy, too, found some new people to talk to and hang out with. They’d go out for drinks and hang out and talk about footie and world leaders and discuss tech and weaponry.

It was like a new leaf, and Roxy loved it. She was feeling so much better operating and being in control than on the field, because _she_ was directing it. _She_ was the one overseeing it all and helping Merlin and discussing new recruits. It was great.

Her first task, however, was to pick a name for herself. She sat down with Arthur and Merlin after she accepted and they discussed it briefly, saying that Lancelot was a title for field agents and while she would still go in the field at times, it was under a different alias. This new title could be in line with Arthurian legend, but it didn’t have to be.

She had a few days to think it over, and after some slight Wikipedia searching, she found her title. She dressed herself for work that day, a light blue button down under a navy blazer, pencil skirt clad and all. She wore a Kingsman pin over her lapel; she showed off her professionalism to anyone that dared look in her direction. Roxanne Morton was the epitome of dapper top secret agent, and she was soaking in every minute of it.

It was a little after nine in the morning when she made her way to Harry’s office, because she knew that her meetings with Merlin ended at nine and she wanted to catch them both in the same place at the same time. They were casually chatting when she knocked on the door, and they were both seated and looking at her as she announced herself.

“What can we do for you?” Harry asked, fingers steepled.

“[ Morgan ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgan_le_Fay).” Roxy said, and she put some files out in front of both of them, showing the historical accuracy of her chosen name.

They both looked over the files, glanced at each other and it was a knowing look of _Harry you picked the right person for the job_ and _Thank you very much, Merlin_.

“Morgan is a sorceress to King Arthur, worked under Merlin and was even in love with Lancelot, which I find a bit amusing, so I figured Morgan was the best name for the job.” She smiled at the two of them, and they applauded her with nods.

“Good job Agent Morgan! I’ll get right onto initiating the new name in the system,” Merlin got up and patten Roxanne on the shoulder as he exited the room.

She looked at Arthur, who was still going over the papers.

“You put some effort into this, I’m glad.” He closed the file and smiled up at Roxy, “I’ve picked the right person for the job.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” Roxy smiled, too.

“No. Thank you, _Morgan_.”

**[Tell Me A Lie - The Fratellis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZxneQl9Qyk) **

Wrapped hands pummeling a sandbag moved at lightening speed; the only sounds in the almost empty arena were the _whoosh_ of a swing and the _thwack_ of contact, trainees feet padding on treadmills and harbored breathing.

The time had finally come that Eggsy got to work down in the gym. He hadn’t gone yet these two weeks and, with all that’s happened so far in his life, he needs a stress reliever, _bad._ He needs to get all this pent up frustration and stress out once and for all. Like dams breaking free, Eggsy let free all those emotions that he just couldn’t contain anymore.

Anything and everything pertaining to what has happened with Harry lately; finally coming to the realization that relationships only truly work with communication. That they  _will not last_ if some serious adjustments aren't made. The snapping at each other, the arguing, the whole cliche of Long Hours at the Office and  _not talking about it at all_ \- not talking about how much it  _kills_ Eggsy to go to bed alone, cold, and waiting - will kill them.

He hit the bag with a blunt force - nothing like the poise and grace you’re taught by agents for a disarm and takedown; it was angrier. It was personal and Eggsy couldn’t help but revert back to some street fighting/boxer combination of swings and stepping. Fighting was like dancing, and if you’re trained enough it never leaves your muscle memory. It’s forever enticed and wrapped around your brain that it’s as simple as breathing. 

It doesn't quite hurt anymore, punching, not until he's given at least a good dozen swings. His breathing is getting more erratic and his muscles are building up with tension; like in his shoulders. He unwinds by swinging.

Change. Change in his relationship with Harry (good change, honest), but change with Roxy. Roxy is leaving him. No, scratch that, not  _leaving him_ \- she's  _promoted._ This is also good change, Eggsy thinks, and if anyone,  _any person in this organization_ , deserves this position it's Rox! She's a top notch agent and, if you haven't noticed, like  _really fucking smart._ He'll still get field time, he'll still get  _friend time_ and it's not bad. It's not, he is happy and he smiles at the realization that just because it's change does not mean the world is imploding. It means that good things are happening and he is _proud_  of Roxy and  _happy_ for Roxy - for  _Morgan_.

Eggsy is in his own head; it happens. It happens a lot during missions and it’s not like he is so out of body that he doesn’t listen to Merlin or doesn’t follow orders; it’s that he’s always thinking. In the vast emptiness of his mind it’s always filled in times like this - calculations, deductions, processing - it never stops. It’s forthcoming and it’s bound to happen and when Eggsy gets like this, inside his brain so easily, he lets it take over him and he uses it as an advantage. He’s hyper aware - of surroundings of people of _everything_. He never lets his guard down and even though he seems cool and suave, it’s the defense mechanism against the inner workings of process and detection Eggsy is doing.

So when Harry strolls into the gym, seeing Eggsy ripped and shining with sweat (like a glowing beacon of _come lick it off of me, ‘Arry)_ , Eggsy doesn’t stop throwing punches but instead amps it up. He hits harder, bounces back quicker, and he can _sense_ Harry’s pleasure at the sight. He does a kick, a four-combo move and then a high kick, almost hitting the chain attached to the bag. He wipes away some of the sweat dripping from his hairline into his eyesight because, fuck, is it ridiculously hot in here? Did Harry crank up the heat again just to watch him  _die?_ He goes at it again, thinking about all the change, all the  _newness_ of his life and the punching becomes more of a rhythm. Two combo, kick, four combo, jab, eight combo, high kick. There's a dance to it, a melody, and it soothes Eggsy. The routine of it calms him and it's a sign saying,  _hey, it's new but it's okay and things like fighting will always be constant to hold on to._

His chest is heaving, it’ll happen when you’re beating the living shit out of a punching bag for hours on end. He’s glistening, some would say soaked but he’d say glistening, with perspiration. Eggsy grabs the bag with his wrapped hands and stills it, takes a moment to rest his forehead against the scratchy exterior and breathes. He tunes himself out of his own head: he winds down. Taking moments and breathes and easing the tempo to un-calculate, de-process. To ground himself in the moment and take himself out of his own head. A balance of equilibrium that is in the _real world._

**[Halo - Beyoncé](https://youtu.be/bnVUHWCynig?t=79) **

He looks at Harry, and he's leaning up against the wall, arms crossed, smirking.

He looks at Harry, and his heart is steadying, but beating out of his chest.

He looks at Harry, and he's brought out of his mind and grounded once again.

He looks at Harry, and he's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep it the way it is?
> 
> Fluff or smut?
> 
> LET ME KNOW!!!


End file.
